


lead us (not) to temptation

by ssuppositiouss



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Awkward Flirting, M/M, Masturbation, Succubi & Incubi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25413778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssuppositiouss/pseuds/ssuppositiouss
Summary: Bill Cipher is the most powerful Incubus for a reason, and tonight his instructions are to Bind the boy called Dipper Pines and bring him back to Hell. Except. . . Dipper Pines is not what he's expecting.
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 19
Kudos: 172





	lead us (not) to temptation

**Author's Note:**

> Fic Terminology
> 
> Nephilim: half-Angel  
> Incubus: male sex Demon  
> Binding: sex between an Incubus and virgin Human  
> Covenant: post-Binding, the process of bringing a Human to Hell for other Incubi

His eyes look electric blue, even under the cover of darkness, where he shouldn’t be able to distinguish such a detail. Dipper is hypnotized, he can’t look away from this man, even as he hugs his book to his chest and starts walking back toward his twin.

She’s heading toward him, anyway, it’s fine. She looks horrified, concerned.

But why? It’s fine. She can meet Bill.

 _Bill. He’s so nice, too,_ Dipper’s mind flutters. _He likes magic and exploring and learning about people and talking to_ you, _Dipper_.

No one ever likes talking to _Dipper_.

Dipper has the strangest urge to fall into Bill’s arms and close his eyes, feel the press of Bill’s body against his. He doesn’t know why his mind is so muddled, but he knows there’s something _carnal_ pooling in him. He’d felt this way at the bar, earlier, when Bill’s voice was the only sound he wanted to hear.

“Dipper?” Mabel’s voice sounds miles away. He only came to this club to give Mabel some company, and it’s already been more than worth it.

He’s overwhelmed, he’s weak. He’s never been attracted to anyone so quickly, but Bill is lean and powerful, his voice innocent and charming. When he talks Dipper can’t help but lean in and hang onto every word he says. It’s magical. _He_ is _magical_.

And Dipper has never wanted anyone to _fuck_ him so hard in his life.

He was attracted before, but, now, his feelings are molten.

* * *

Bill knows exactly which Human is the Offering the moment he lands in Gravity Falls.

As a Demon, Bill has the ability to sense strong souls, and there’s something _powerful_ resonating from the man slouched alone at the bar, a hardcover book in hand. His soul is magnetic, and Bill is tempted to make his way to the bar for a taste.

Tempted, but patience is _key_. He’ll taste _plenty_ during the Binding.

He stands at the entrance of the Illumi-Naughty Bar without his golden wings, without his inky tail, without his talon-like claws, without his horns or his scaled skin. He looks Human, with blonde hair and pretty tanned skin and piercing golden eyes. He isn’t Human, has never been Human, but when he needs to Bind an Offering, he prefers looking Human instead of Demonic (instead of looking like the Incubus he is). It makes everything seem like more of a game.

Bill _always_ wins games.

He feels someone touch his arm, and he figures he can afford a little distraction before he fulfills his assignment. Why not build up some energy? Why not enjoy some company? Why not end some of his resentment (his loneliness), just for a little bit?

Everyone is receptive to his advances—even before he’d been an Incubus, when he’d been just a regular, ambitious Demon, his charisma brought him an endless supply of power from weaker beings and mortals eager for deals with him, regardless of looks.

He doesn’t care much for what the Humans think, though he knows they all adore him. He does, however, care what the other Demons think. Being an Incubus wasn’t his first choice of career—especially when he started as a powerful Demon, making deals and a name for himself with very little contact with Humans—and everyone knows all too well how hard he’s trying to get out of it.

Revenge will taste as sweet as it will feel, he’s sure.

He smirks at the woman vying for his attention. He has no need for this Human girl tonight. Binding her wouldn’t be worth the loss of the other Offering. Maybe it’s a small mercy that she won’t be joining him in Hell.

His orders are specific. The higher Demons of the Second Dimension want the half-angel, the Nephilim. He resisted the Incubi of the First Dimension easily, meaning that the magic he could give them during a Covenant would be _immeasurable_.

Bill will be the one who Binds this Offering.

He is one of the strongest Incubi, a few Covenants away from getting himself out of this mess. And Dipper Pines, the nephew of the Human who _ruined_ him, is going to be _dragged_ into Hell, with Bill at the reins.

Bill dances his way through the crowd until he makes it to the bar, receptive to the casual touches of the Humans who surround him, accepting their small amounts of magic with ease. Flushed and pleased and feeling more powerful than usual, he leans against the bar countertop, ordering a drink that that looks dark red even in this lighting. A devil’s drink, he decides, winking at the bartender. Perfect.

She looks flustered at the attention, waving off the charge for the drink in exchange for his smile, despite its sharp angles and predatory lilt.

Well. It’s flattering to know many Offerings like how he looks as a Human, in this _fleshbag_ he designed for maximum manipulation. He has good tastes, what can he say?

Bill hasn’t had to change this appearance much since he’s been tasked with Binding the Offerings. He’s attractive and charismatic, _easily_ attracting the magic he needs to Bind his target without using additional power, making him one of the strongest Demons in the Second Dimension. Only two Offerings have so far needed further magical persuasion. Even then, a simple handshake with Bill is enough to win them over.

His fire never fails.

While being an Incubus wasn’t his first choice, the sex certainly isn’t a downside. Humans are. . . disgusting little meatsacks. But they can give him some pleasure when they drown him in their magic. If their souls are strong and their minds willing, they are prime Offerings for a Covenant.

It also gives Bill more than enough energy to travel to and from Earth on his own, without a higher Demon having to create a Portal for him—it’s a brutal reminder of how easy it used to be for him to create his own Portals. He can’t _wait_ until he’s back to himself again. Thirty years is too much time.

Tonight, he will Bind the man called Dipper Pines and bring him back to the Second Dimension for a Covenant.

First, Bill will Bind him. And when Dipper’s mind is hazy with lust and he offers his virginity in a Covenant, they will head to Hell together so all of the Demons of the Second Dimension can take their share of his Nephilim magic.

If he manages this, perhaps the Axolotl will rescind the punishment binding him to the Second Dimension as an Incubus. He’ll be free again.

He’ll get back at Sixer.

A Demon from the First Dimension tried to Bind this Pines boy, and he had failed. It’s rare to fail in Binding someone—a Human’s spirit is nothing compared to the will of a Demon, and a Nephilim, while strong, doesn’t have true power to resist—and now, numerous Demons from the other Dimensions of Hell are eager for this soul’s potential. It’s been such an ordeal with the Demons from the Third Dimension now unable to take Dipper to their Incubi. If the strongest Dimension of Hell can’t Bind him, there must be _something_ about him worth taking.

Who else would the Second Dimension send _but_ Bill Cipher? Particularly since he has a _such_ a _special_ bond with the Pines family.

It’s nice to be one of the stronger Demons, even if it is as an Incubus.

Bill snickers. Time to get _started_.

He takes a sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste. Alcohol is nothing compared to the taste of magic, of come during the Binding, of lust, of _sex_. Humans have such disgusting tastes.

Before he can make his way to Dipper’s seat, someone speaks up.

“Don’t bother with him.” Bill glances at the source of the voice, raising his eyebrows at a platinum blond boy with a bit of a drawl in his voice. He has a bit of his own magic to share with Bill. His attraction isn’t subtle, and Bill never refuses someone’s lust, not when he needs magic to get himself out of this mess.

“With who?” He smiles and smooths his outfit, fitted black pants and a bright gold dress shirt, a black bowtie at his neck. His past Offerings have all found gold a good color for him—particularly in the middle of the Binding, when they’re tearing his clothes off—and he isn’t the type to deny them.

The boy scowls, glaring toward the only person at the bar alone. He is clearly bitter about something with Dipper, and Bill has to wonder what happened. He’s surprised that someone would feel the need to warn about Dipper instead of trying to flirt with and win Bill over on their own. Pathetic. Most Humans are.

Nothing from this boy’s mouth could possibly be true, based on the fire behind his emotions, yet Bill is intrigued. What does he have to say about Dipper Pines? “Why?”

“He’s a prude.” Then, realizing how stupid that must sound (Humans, after all, are _imbeciles_ ), he continues, “That’s _Pines_ the _prude_. Top of the class but won’t give it up. Keeps people from his sister, too.”

Bill shrugs. So the Offering is a know-it-all. He’s like his great uncle. It wouldn’t be the first time Bill would have to look past an Offering’s personality. Being a prude around _Bill_ , though? Unlikely. Besides, he’s an Incubus, so ultimately what matters is the Binding, the _sex_ , the emotion he creates from the encounter, the _magic_ he takes.

“Probably thinks he’s too good for you.”

“Doubtful.” Someone too good for _Bill Cipher_? Ridiculous. “If anything, I’m too good for _that_.”

The boy seems to find Bill more appealing at his words, lust spiking as he appraises Bill. “True indeed.”

Bill gives the boy a once-over in return. He’s wearing a shirt tight enough to show his muscles, and light blue eyes and freckles. Bill can’t see the boy’s ass from their positions, which is a bit disappointing, but, otherwise, he’s physically attractive. Personality? Not so much.

Bill licks his lips. Another day, maybe. This boy isn’t a virgin, can’t be an Offering. It won’t stop Bill from having fun, when this current mission is over, if he’s still an Incubus. He likes having his own supply of magic, when he’s not on another job.

He might keep up with taking magic this way, when he’s finished with his stint as an Incubus.

“That all?” Nothing Bill can’t handle.

The boy’s face falls, scrunching into an angry expression as he grumbles, “Won’t give anyone the time of day, just studies and keeps people away from his hot sister.”

Bill catches it all, of course. “Huh.” Bill stands up, nods at the blond. He senses frustration and jealousy, but he doesn’t sense that the boy is lying. Humans can believe whatever they’d like to believe, and this knowledge doesn’t change that Dipper is an Offering and Bill is going to Bind him.

(But who wants to have sex with an arrogant prudish know-it-all? He doesn’t necessarily need to _like_ the Offerings to Bind them, but the job loses its appeal if he’s required to Bind someone inherently unlikeable.)

Unfortunate that the ‘hot sister’ is not a virgin, or Bill could’ve brought two of the Pines family as Offerings to Hell.

Sixer would _love_ it.

Well, he would love it, if Bill hadn’t tortured him to near-insanity for his trickery. He’s off floating somewhere in the Fifth Dimension.

Maybe.

Who cares? Bill doesn’t keep track.

The boy watches Bill leave, jealousy blossoming further as he’s rejected for Dipper, so Bill turns back and winks at him. Lust is a powerful tool to embrace, and Bill has nothing against the jealous boy. If the boy dreams of him tonight, Bill will end up with more magic. It’s a winning situation for them both.

Shoving away thoughts of this stranger (he’s still just a gross little meatsack), he shuffles through different lines in his head, selecting his most ridiculous for the _prudish_ Dipper Pines.

“I wasn’t sure if you were a beautiful angel or a sexy devil.” Bill sidles up to his target, and Dipper looks surprised to see someone talking to him, end of the pen he’s biting falling from his lips, his heartbeat picking up when he meets Bill’s gaze. “But now, I see _heaven_ in your eyes.”

There is a beat of silence.

“What?” Dipper places his book down on the counter, his finger keeping his place on the page. “Do you just spout nonsense to people at bars?”

“It means your eyes are. . . nice?” Smooth. Bill scrambles for something better to say. There is a bit of warm attraction Bill senses from Dipper, but nowhere near the normal spikes of heat Bill has been starting to take for granted. Weird. “The color isn’t one I’ve seen before,” he adds helpfully.

Dipper rolls his eyes, turning back to his book. “They’re brown. Good try.”

Bill wants to smack himself in the face. He should’ve paid more attention to Dipper’s features. He does have very large brown eyes. Long eyelashes. Thin eyebrows, one slightly raised. “Who says brown eyes aren’t unique?”

“Oh.” Dipper looks unimpressed, but his lips are upturned just slightly, enough that Bill notices. “They’re just brown.”

“Maybe. But they’re a part of _you_.”

Another beat passes. “Wait,” Dipper stares at Bill, squinting, “was that a pick-up line?”

How is _Dipper_ considered ‘top-of-his-class’? Human standards have _clearly_ fallen low. He’s not about to take credit for a line that he not only had to explain, but one that went _completely_ past this guy. “Nah.” Maybe the flirting is coming on too strong. “I’m pretty popular with the ladies, though.”

“Can’t say I see the hype.”

“I’m not too bad with the men, either,” he says, leaning toward Dipper and flashing one of his tempting smiles.

They stare at each other, and Bill considers this boy with the strong soul, this boy with so much _promise_. Being this close, Bill can sense the power Dipper unknowingly yields. His spirit is a feisty one, and Bill is a bit. . . excited. . . to be the one to Bind him.

Dipper has unruly brown curls under a goofy blue pine tree cap and a spattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. His lips are chapped, and his bottom lip looks like he dedicates half the day to just chewing at it.

He’s not _un_ attractive, exactly. Bill wouldn’t have picked him up at the bar on first glance. But he can _feel_ the magic in him, the spirit of being a Nephilim.

“Hmph.” Dipper quips back, “You’re terrible.”

“Oh?” Bill’s responding grin is all teeth, lips stretched over glistening white fangs. He leans forward and peers at Dipper’s face, curious about this _Nephilim with so much potential_. He can enjoy this challenge; he’ll enjoy Binding Dipper even more. He’ll especially enjoy the expression on Sixer’s face when he realizes that his nephew is nothing but a mindless _plaything_ to the Second Dimension. The image makes him shiver. “Is that what you think?”

Dipper bites his lip—Bill _knew_ he was a lip-biter, and he’ll be the one biting that lip next—looking away from Bill and toward the crowd. “Did you want something from me? Mabel is with someone right now.”

“Who’s Mabel?” The hot sister, he’s assuming. Better to pretend he doesn’t know, though.

Regardless of what he says and how he acts, Dipper _definitely_ likes Human Bill. Just like the other Offerings have. Everyone _likes_ Bill Cipher.

“Don’t tell me you’re a liar, on top of spewing shitty pick-up lines.”

“I mean, are they shitty if _you_ ’re the only one who can’t understand them?”

Dipper frowns, playing with the straw in his drink. A beat passes, then another, then another. Dipper. . . isn’t a good conversationalist. But Bill knows Dipper wants to talk, can sense the way Dipper’s skin warms when he looks at Bill, the way his heart races when Bill smiles.

“You can’t _ignore_ me!”

Dipper doesn’t refute it (because it’s true). “Because you’re annoying.”

Annoying? Okay, that offends him a little. “Tell that to everyone I’ve B—” He catches himself, biting back his urge to argue.

“You’re a flirt, then.”

Bill pouts, tries to reign the conversation back in his favor. Flirting has usually worked, but maybe Dipper wants straightforward conversation. A few men he’s taken as Offerings enjoyed just hearing him talk. A few women wanted to know more about his personality. Others wanted to be the ones to talk, and Bill is a good liar.

It’s been a while since Bill has had a real conversation, though. Receiving orders and flirting with Humans is hardly the contact Bill enjoys.

He places his glass on the bar table, sliding into the seat next to Dipper’s. Dipper doesn’t make any effort to move or push him away, so Bill takes that as a good sign. He leans closer to Dipper, to ensure he’s still heard, though Dipper is hanging on to Bill’s every word. “You don’t look like you want to be here.”

“You caught me.” Dipper rolls his eyes. “It’s not high on my priority list to converse with Mabel’s fan club at bars.”

Mabel’s. . . fan club? Ignoring that, Bill wonders about Dipper’s motivations. Why is he in a club if he plans on reading in the corner? Doesn’t he know how much attention he’s getting in Hell? A club is such a dangerous place for him right now, and he’s just sitting alone, waiting for Demons like Bill to prey on him.

Not that Bill minds. “Yet here you are.”

“Here. . .” Bill stares at Dipper’s mouth, then drags his gaze to Dipper’s eyes. It’s a look that’s won him several of his Offerings, so very little of his magic was needed to Bind them. Dipper licks his lips. There’s a large spike in his lust, and as Dipper’s attraction provides power, Bill’s power surges and pulls Dipper closer, a vicious cycle. Dipper swallows, stuttering on his words: “H-here I am.”

Tangles of magic start to tug Dipper toward Bill ( _kiss me_ , Bill directs, _kiss me_ ) and Dipper’s eyes flutter shut for a brief moment, dark lashes to his pale cheeks.

He’s pretty, Bill thinks, startled at himself. All of his features are average, and yet Dipper. . . Humans (Nephilim) shouldn’t be so pretty. They’re _disgusting_ little puppets, only useful for the magic they can give.

Dipper’s lips are very pink, a plump bottom lip Bill wants to bite. Are his lips as soft as they look? _Kiss me_. Dipper exhales, nearly falling into Bill’s lap. There’s so much heat between them, and Bill’s hands tremble as he reaches to steady Dipper.

The heat from Dipper’s body makes Bill shiver, and he finds himself leaning closer to Dipper as well. He wants to prolong the contact, press their heated skin together and just hold someone and be held.

. . . What?

Bill frowns. Then Dipper blinks and pulls back.

“Oh wow. Uhh. Sorry.” His cheeks are flushed, and he’s staring intensely at his drink. Bill can’t tell if Dipper is aware of what he’d been doing. “I, umm, spaced out. For a second there.”

Bill sighs, stumped at what to do next. Flirting tends to just _flow_ from him, to the point that he can think several steps ahead and plan for Binding before the conversation even finishes. It’s his talent, his magical gift, to be able to win people with the simplest of smiles. He thought it’d been working, but Dipper is a bit unpredictable. He’s never had this happen before. “I’m trying to understand you,” he says almost helplessly.

Dipper raises an eyebrow. “I’m easy to figure out.”

“You’re really not.”

“You’re not, either, Mr. Tall, Dark, and. . . I didn’t just say that. Talk about putting your foot in your mouth.” Dipper digs his teeth deeper into his lower lip, and Bill watches, amused. “Umm, what would you want to know?”

He wants to know a lot about Dipper, but it’s nothing that Dipper can answer. He wants to know what makes him so appealing to the Incubi, wants to know why he’s alone at the bar despite his pretty—average! He’s _average_!—face, wants to know what goes on in his mind. He wants to know his family history, how he is a Nephilim despite Sixer being Human, how close he is to Sixer whom he couldn’t have met. . .

Dipper had been so close to giving in just now, so close to kissing Bill and starting the Binding.

But Bill is good at playing this game. He can win over someone like Dipper, an awkward prudish know-it-all. “Your name would be nice.”

To Bill’s astonishment, Dipper laughs. It’s strangely _nice_ to hear, a bit awkward and childish and a little too loud, yet it’s refreshing. He almost wants to make Dipper laugh again.

Bill frowns again.

It’s his job to attract Dipper, not the other way around.

“Do you really not know Mabel?” Bill shrugs in false helplessness, watching as Dipper’s face blossoms red. “I am so sorry, I just thought. . . Most people. . . Umm, I’m Dipper.” He frowns. “Brother of Mabel. Pines. And you _prob_ ably didn’t need to know that. Sorry.”

“Dipper. Pine Tree.” That was the _worst_ introduction he’s heard, no matter how nervous people can be around him, and it makes him laugh. Dipper looks confused, but he smiles at Bill anyway. He’s. . . cute. “The name’s Bill.”

“Hi, Bill.” Dipper’s attraction feeds more power to Bill again, and Bill revels in it.

Trying not to look at the expression on Dipper’s face, Bill glances at the hardcover so out of place in this club. “What book are you reading?”

He figures he’ll have to listen to some bragging about grades and whatever else students Dipper’s age do. He’ll give Dipper time to prattle about exams and schoolwork, so Bill can pretend to swoon and then Dipper will have sex with him.

Easy. Dipper Pines will be _easy_.

“Oh, it’s. . . My great uncle wrote a few books on the history of Gravity Falls. I’m new to the area, so I figured they were worth reading.”

“Stanford Pines,” Bill says flatly, watching the way Dipper lights up.

“You knew him?”

 _Kid, he’s the reason I’m_ stuck _like this_. He closes his eyes and pictures the book Dipper’s reading, selecting a passage at random. Then he smirks. “He was a professor at my dream school.” Dipper nods. “I like the part about his muse.”

Dipper’s smile seems to brighten his entire being, and it makes Bill feel. . . warm. It’s not unpleasant, but he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling. “I do, too.”

 _You’ll do more than_ like _his muse, Dipper Pines._

“Have you explored the Falls yourself, or are you sticking to your uncle’s books?”

“I’d like to explore! I’m just waiting for Mabel to have time, so we can explore together.” Dipper grabs his drink again, but the way his lips wrap around the straw is distracting.

Bill looks up at Dipper’s eyes again. “We could explore the forest together.”

It’s a lie, something he’s saying to win Dipper over. And yet. . . The idea of exploring with Dipper doesn’t seem too bad. He imagines their conversations would be riddled with their awkward pauses and Dipper’s jumpy yet blunt manner of speaking, but it could be fun. He’s sure there are others who would be more fun to explore with, but the unpredictability of talking to Dipper could make it worthwhile.

Ugh! No!

He just needs to Bind Dipper, feed off of his delicious magic, let him give some of his boundless magic to the other Incubi. He isn’t _worth_ more than that.

“There’s supposedly a gremloblin in the caves outside the town.” Bill waves his hand as this is nothing. He is—well, he _was_ —a powerful Demon. A gremloblin _should_ be nothing. “We could find it. . . together?”

“No _way_! I’d—” Dipper takes a sip from his drink, trying and failing to hide his smile. “I’d like that.” There’s a pause, and Dipper fiddles with the straw for his drink. He looks up at Bill, then bites his lip. “Enough about me, though. I’m just. . .” A silly little Nephilim with more charm than necessary? “What do _you_ like to do?”

Bill can’t help but laugh at the earnest way Dipper is attempting conversation with him. But what story to pick? There’s so much he could say. He’s told prior Offerings that he likes decoding cryptograms, that he enjoys hunting, that he’s a bit of a businessman. It doesn’t matter what he says, though; he just needs to Bind Dipper before someone else does.

But he kind of _wants_ to learn more about Dipper. And Dipper likes. . .

“I like magic,” he says unthinkingly.

Dipper looks even more excited at that. “You know about magic?”

“I know about _lots_ of things, Pine Tree.” He leans closer. “ _Lots_ of things.”

“Like codes?” Dipper pushes his book toward Bill. “Ciphers?”

Bill grins, sharp teeth glinting. “I’m all _about_ ciphers.”

And somehow, _somehow_ , he gets roped into solving some of Sixer’s coded puzzles with Dipper Pines. While some of the riddles are easy, there are a few Bill can’t solve that Dipper is untangling with ease. He’s smarter than Bill would have given him credit for, honestly.

Time just. . . flows. He doesn’t know how much time they spend huddled together at the bar, just talking. They’re pressed so near each other, magic and theories just bursting from Dipper’s lips, and then they’re showing each other silly magic tricks. Bill shows his cheap parlor tricks, summoning painless flames.

And Dipper creates a palm-sized tree.

He’s something else. He’s _more_ than something else.

He’s—

_He’s the nephew of Stanford Pines._

Of course. Right. Bill needs to steer the conversation on track. He. . . shouldn’t be wasting time. He’s a punctual gentleman, the perfect Demon!

He not-so-subtly appraises Dipper, when the conversation lulls, forcing magic toward the Nephilim. He licks his lips at the way Dipper’s shirt hugs his chest, the peaks of his nipples under the material, the way his dark jeans hug his thighs, the slight swell of his cock the longer Bill stares.

Another surge of sexual energy gives him more power, and Dipper looks dazed as the lust hits him, nearly knocking over his drink. “Ohh!”

Bill accepts the magic Dipper offers, body surging with warmth and taunting Dipper further.

Dipper probably doesn’t realize it, but he’s leaning toward Bill again, his right hand sliding under his shirt to start touching himself.

Excellent.

Bill is tempted to place his hand on Dipper’s, to guide where he touches, how he moves. Offerings are inexperienced, and Bill is an Incubus who has more than enough knowledge to share. He remembers the warmth of Dipper’s touch earlier, and he leans toward Dipper, pressing his hand to Dipper’s thigh, just close enough to the heat between his legs, and he looks into Dipper’s eyes.

“Wanna take this somewhere else?”

“Ye—” Dipper cuts himself off, then blinks several times, and Bill sees the haze start to fade from Dipper’s eyes. He moves back again, and Dipper furrows his eyebrows. He pulls his hand from under his shirt, staring at it like it wronged him. “Wait. I’m not. . . Why are you talking to me?”

 _What?_ The bluntness is surprising, and Bill has to pause and consider if Dipper is trying to send him away or is genuinely wondering what Bill is looking for.

They’d been so close to kissing again.

Talking to Dipper is confusing, but it’s enthralling as well. In some ways, it’s exactly the same as it’s always been, a line he spews to make the Offerings more trusting. But he does. . . want. . . to know more about Dipper.

Why is Dipper so guarded, yet so eager to talk about himself? Why is he so interested in magic? Does he know about his heritage? What makes his soul so strong, when there are other Nephilim who have less strength than this? How does he keep falling out of the lust that pulls him toward Bill?

He seems so quiet, but he’s snarky. Awkward. He’s so bad at talking it’s _hilarious_ , it’s _pathetic_ , except it’s not. Except he can talk when it’s something he seems to care about.

He’s pushing Bill away, but Bill can feel that he wants to continue the conversation.

Dipper starts leaning toward him, the spark of Bill’s charisma drawing him in. He licks his lips, and Bill follows the movement of his tongue, wants to press his mouth to Dipper’s and _taste_.

Binding Dipper will be fun. He can’t deny that, anymore.

“I want to learn about you.” He smiles his best smile, pours out a lot of his own energy to draw Dipper in.

“Learn about. . . me,” he breathes. Bill reaches toward Dipper’s cheek, fingers tangling in Dipper’s curly hair as he pulls Dipper toward him. He likes the feeling of Dipper’s hair in his hands, likes the thought of being able to tug at Dipper’s hair and make him moan.

Sparks of energy warm Bill’s fingertips, make his heart beat faster and faster. He’s shaking, almost nervous, as their lips almost brush. He can’t distinguish if these are Dipper’s feelings or his own. “You.”

Dipper pauses when their lips are millimeters apart, pulling away with slight apprehension in his eyes. “Wait. Was this all to. . .” Dipper looks hurt, and something about his expression makes Bill’s chest feel tight. “Do you even like this stuff?”

“Of _course_ I do, Pine Tree.”

“No. . . People do this to Mabel all the time. . . You just want. . .” His cheeks burn a bright, obvious red, even in the club’s dim lighting.

Well. It is _exactly_ what he wants, but no one’s ever called him out on it.

“You’re not from here,” Dipper declares, pulling back. He looks flustered, and the words coming from his mouth don’t fit anything they’ve been talking about. “So _this_ ,” he gestures between them, “won’t work.”

Bill can’t help his confusion. “What?”

“When are you leaving?”

“You. . .” Words fail him. “You _want_ me to leave?”

No one has ever wanted him to stop, to _leave_. He’s Bill Cipher!

“I. . .” Dipper looks torn, but then his features harden, a frown very clear on his lips. He looks down, and his bangs shade his eyes. His silence says more than words can.

Bill downs the rest of his drink, hands shaking as he smacks his glass down to the bar counter. He’s. . . being _rejected_? But he’s. . . He’s never. . . All the excuses he’d prepared for saving face escape him, and he knows his face shows exactly how he’s feeling. “Guess you _wasted_ your time.”

Dipper starts to stand, and his expression softens when he looks at Bill. He has the decency to look upset, to look regretful. He _should_ , that prudish little— “It’s just. You’re leaving. And I’m not good at. . .”

Dipper pushing him away is a heavy rejection. Dipper would rather have nothing than get to know Bill. And he’s able to overcome the power of a Demon to _reject_ a powerful Incubus. He’s _stronger_ than the skills of a powerful Demon-turned-Incubus.

Just what kind of Nephilim _is_ he?

At this rate, he’ll have to go back to the Second Dimension and tell them he failed. If someone else succeeds over him, he has nothing, he is nothing. He can’t even Bind a powerless Nephilim, and he can’t get revenge on Sixer.

This whole thing is for revenge on Sixer, Bill reminds himself. Who cares about _Dipper_?

The urge to just grab Dipper’s hand and use his flames is strong. Dipper is attracted to him, he likes Bill’s _mind_. It wouldn’t be hard to manipulate that, he’s done it before, he has this power for a reason. He doesn’t understand.

“I, uhh. . .” Dipper clicks and unclicks his pen, looking uncomfortable. “It was nice meeting you?” It sounds more like a question than anything, and that frustrates Bill further.

He has to save face. He can’t let this rejection discolor his successes, his personality. He’s Bill Cipher. They sent him here for Dipper, and if he can’t do it, what’s the point in continuing to exist? He won’t have his revenge, he won’t be a full-fledged Demon again, he won’t _have_ _Dipper_.

“I wish I could say the same,” he says without thinking. He is unaffected by the rejection. He needs to be.

He thinks of Sixer, the way they both manipulated each other to this.

Dipper frowns. “Bill—”

He thinks of his first days as an Incubus, trying to get his footing in a form meant to support the collective Dimension instead of the individual himself.

“I’ll see you.”

He thinks of what he wants to be, who he is supposed to be, and how he’s trapped because of the Pines family _again_.

“I just—”

He thinks of this stupid Nephilim, somehow more powerful than a centuries old Demon, because of stupid mistakes and _feelings_.

 _Don’t bother with him_.

Repulsive little fleshbag.

“You haven’t tasted true temptation.” Bill smiles at Dipper, and Dipper falters, confusion radiating from him as he grabs his book and stands up. “Let me show you.”

More than ever, Bill has to Bind Dipper now.

He runs several ideas through his head—and they all mix with his worries and doubts, the fear of being an Incubus forever, the weakness of getting trapped like this because of a Human, the desire to _hurt_ those who wronged him but somehow _keep_ this one stupid boy to himself—until he settles on a fantasy he thinks would be best for this poor little Nephilim.

He folds his hands together as though in prayer, letting his magic spill to his palms as he conjures fantasies and imageries to direct at his target.

 _Dipper, trembling as he makes his way off the dance floor, nearly falling into Bill’s waiting arms. Dipper, fingers caressing Bill’s cheek, biting his lip as he looks into Bill’s eyes. Dipper, pressing their bodies together in desperate, carnal_ desire _, mouth pressing kisses to Bill’s neck as his eyelids fall shut. Every breath is heated, every touch deliberate._

He summons his flames, glowing sapphire in his hands. With the fire present, his appearance starts to revert back to his Demon one, wings and tail and all. Only other Demons can see his true appearance now, though he feels someone staring at him from the dance floor. It’s easy to ignore that and focus on his task, and he immediately grabs Dipper’s hand.

The flames glow and glow, traveling up Dipper’s arm, piercing his heart and evaporating into little flecks of light.

“Want a taste of the devil, Dipper Pines?”

“Bill?” Dipper tugs himself free of Bill’s hold, bumping into everyone in his path as he makes his way back to his sister.

She is a mirror copy of her brother, a Nephilim herself. She exudes a different strength, though, and she it’s clear she won’t be desired for a Covenant with Hell. She glares at Bill from across the bar, but Dipper is with her for all of thirty seconds before he’s looking back at Bill, eyebrows drawing together as they make eye contact.

He’s clearly flustered at the onslaught of emotion, torn between his pride and how much he can no longer resist the man he’s just met.

Bill watches, a smile stretching across his lips, as Dipper freezes, face flushing bright, bright red at the sudden bombardment of desires his mind must be conjuring on its own. His sister touches his arm in concern—Dipper, are you okay? What’s wrong?—but Dipper brushes them aside, mumbles intelligible reassurances as he stumbles his way back toward the bar, where Bill awaits.

The thought of finally Binding him makes Bill’s smirk a little more genuine.

Bill makes it easier for Dipper to come to him, moving into Dipper’s path as he staggers forward, breathing hard as he makes it to Bill.

Dipper looks into Bill’s eyes.

His eyes are so striking, particularly when fogged with lust. His pupils are wide, the brown of his eyes barely visible. Bill smiles at him, some sympathy and kindness oozing out of him as he reaches out his hand to take Dipper’s. He can feel the heat of Dipper’s palms, the way Dipper is trembling from the flow of magic that connects him to Bill.

“Bill,” Dipper breathes, drunk with emotion.

He smiles in anticipation, body restless and wanting. He wants this boy’s body, wants to pull at that thick brown hair and bite at those full, red lips and suck on that smooth, pale skin. He wants this boy to surrender to him, he wants to be the one marking and Binding him. . . before he sends Dipper to the others. Maybe, for this one Covenant, he’ll take part a second time. A third.

At least he gets Dipper to himself for the Binding.

Bill exhales and tightens his grip on Dipper’s mind, clouds Dipper’s awareness with heat and desire: desire for Bill, desire to be submissive, desire to be fucked _raw_ until he’s a hollow, quivering mess, _begging_ for Bill to rip every last drop of magic from his lithe little body. Yes, that’s what Bill wants. What he makes Dipper want.

Dipper looks like he’s going to combust under Bill’s gaze, an unsure smile pulling at his lips. He looks like he did at the bar, enthusiastic and awkward.

Perfect.

“Let’s go somewhere quiet,” Bill says lowly into Dipper’s ear. Dipper’s curls tickle his nose, and he wants to hold Dipper close and never let go.

This is meant to be the start of a Binding, where the Offering turns their head and presses their lips to Bill’s. Dipper’s heart is racing, his magic pouring to Bill so eagerly, but despite it all. . .

“I—”

“Pine Tree!”

He pulls back and brushes past Bill, lips drawn into a confused pout and he mumbles _what the hell am I doing_ , footsteps uneven and clumsy as he distances himself from Bill, apologizing all the way.

“I’m sorry!”

Bill stands still. He watches Dipper leave, emotions scrambling to find _something_ solid to feel. No one has ever _rejected_ him before. He’s the strongest Demon in the Second Dimension, the one other Demons from other Dimensions turn to when they needed Offerings, because _Bill doesn’t fail_.

It takes another few seconds for the realization to process, that Dipper has resisted the strongest of his magic, and Bill is both awed and infuriated. He knows he did the spell correctly, knows that the look in Dipper’s eyes meant the magic had taken hold. But still Dipper _resists_.

If he’s resisting. . . Then he doesn’t want _Bill_. The magic only works if he’s done his part, and he _has_. He knows what he’s seen in Dipper’s eyes.

Bill trembles as he steps back, using the bar to catch his balance.

The rejection stings more than it should, covering Bill like a shadow, and he clenches his fists, flames burning bright.

Everyone will soon talk about how the great _Bill Cipher_ lost Dipper Pines, no better than a First Dimension Demon, weak to the whims of a silly _half_ - _Human_. What if another Demon Binds Dipper? What if another Demon is able to do this _easily_?

No! He’s supposed to think—What if he never gets his _revenge_ on Sixer? What if he’s stuck like this _forever_?

His thoughts are frantic, jumbled, indistinguishable from his emotion, and then another ball of flame is bounding toward Dipper’s heart before he even realizes he’s set it in motion. His heartbeat rings in his ears. He thinks he tastes blood in his mouth. His hands are shaking.

He's livid. He’s horrified. He’s—

Dipper turns to look at Bill, wide-eyed and face flushed. Bill can see the residual magic glimmering around Dipper’s heart, and Dipper takes a dizzy step toward Bill before spinning back around and sprinting out the door.

His sister, the other Nephilim, is about to follow, and Bill doesn’t think twice as he throws his fire at her, letting it wrap around her and _distract_.

Dipper Pines will be _his_.

Bill stretches his wings wide as he surges from the club to follow.

The night air is cool but sticky, and there are groups of people aimlessly wandering and chatting. It’s easy for Bill to locate Dipper. He hasn’t made it very far at all.

Bill tracks Dipper’s trail of magic to the alley right next to the bar. He dropped his book on the sidewalk in his haste, and Bill stops to pick it up. The worn cover proves it’s Sixer’s old journal, the original copy, not the one he had published. Figures his nephew would take an interest in the magical world.

Figures the Pines family would hurt him again.

The alley where Dipper is hiding doesn’t seem to attract as many people, darkened by the shadows of the buildings, a good enough distance away from the street lights. It isn’t as busy here, so people aren’t stopping to look at the boy so broken in his attraction to a Demon that he can barely stand.

Bill licks his lips, hands quivering. He can _feel_ Dipper’s lust from this distance, and it’s daunting and wonderful. His fire amplified Dipper’s attraction to levels perfect for Binding, for a Covenant. It’s more than he’s ever felt from a Human before. It’s more than he could have wanted.

Yet. . .

The fact that Dipper still resists stirs something inside him. His own lust? Interest? Horror? As an Incubus, he thrives in this kind of environment, where attraction and sex are all that matter.

Somehow, though, this is different.

What the Demons have been doing has never bothered him before, at least not to this extent. Bill glances at Dipper’s face, the flush of his cheeks, the way he’s biting his fingers to keep himself from making noise. He wants to know Dipper, the longer this goes on. The more Dipper resists the more curious he becomes.

He stands, frozen, in the opening to the alley, unable to tear his eyes away. He’s still in his Demon form, so no one can see him, but he spreads his golden wings wide as though blocking any passerby from witnessing this. This is a sight for him alone.

Dipper is falling apart because of him, because of _Bill Cipher_.

Blissfully unaware of his new voyeur, Dipper slides one hand up his shirt to rub at his nipples, clumsily unfastening his pants and dropping them around his knees with his other hand.

“Hnnn. . .” Dipper leans against the brick, sliding downward and squeezing his eyes shut in temporary relief when he finally touches his cock. His shirt slides up as he sinks to the ground, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, and Bill wants to tear his _useless_ shirt off entirely. He makes a noise that starts to sound like Bill’s name, and it makes Bill shiver.

 _Yes_.

The sight is breathtaking, a present slowly unwrapped in front of Bill’s eyes, Dipper’s dusky nipples hardening at the cool air, a soft abdomen, a trail of brown hair leading to a tent underneath black boxers.

He wants this boy to want him. He. . . wants Dipper. In a way he admittedly has never wanted one of his Bindings before.

He’s not built, he’s not conventionally attractive, he’s just a target!

But he smiles like Bill gives him the world.

“Pine Tree. . .” Bill whispers, moving closer, unable to drag his eyes from the quivering beautiful mess he’s created. His body aches, his own cock stirring in excitement the more he watches the boy he’s supposed to collect, the boy meant to be an Offering.

Somehow, their gazes meet, Dipper’s eyes fogged with desperation and lust. Dipper’s fingers twist around one of his nipples and he whimpers, breaking eye contact so he can play with himself further, so he can relieve at least some of the desire _tormenting_ him. Bill doesn’t think that Dipper knows he’s really there, and Bill supposes maybe he isn’t, since he’s in his true Demon form rather than his illusory Human one.

He isn’t visible, but Dipper might be able to feel his presence.

He needs the strength this boy promises. He wants it. There has to be a lot of magic in him, from how much he denies Bill’s advances. It’s daunting and promising and amazing and Bill _wants_ Dipper.

(He doesn’t want Dipper as just an Offering, he wants to understand this strange, stubborn, _stupid_ Nephilim.)

Dipper is vulnerable from his position as Bill towers over him from a distance, all height and sex and power. Bill is right here, Bill can help him, Bill can give him exactly what he wants. Bill is all he wants. Bill could help, and though he wants to (he really, _really_ wants to), he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Bill. . .”

He doesn’t understand why Dipper ran. He made his intentions clear with the flirting, with his soft, sometimes predatory, gazes and their almost-kisses. He let Dipper come to him, wrapped his mind in lust and fantasies. It would be so easy for Dipper to give in, and Bill _needs him to give in_.

He can’t break the trance between them, prey to his own desires for this tantalizing Nephilim.

The heat and desire hit a peak for Dipper, and he pulls his body up just enough so he can yank his boxers down, apparently uncaring that he’s outside, that he’s visible to anyone who walks by, that he’s on the ground outside of a club.

His careless haze makes Bill’s eyes darken. Dipper is beautiful like this, but he doesn’t want anyone else to see. He loves that Dipper is on display for him to watch, but he also doesn’t want anyone else watching.

Dipper hisses as cool air touches his cock, and Bill licks his lips as he admires the sight, the pink, the dark vein along the side, the shine of precome as it spills from the head. Dipper’s hand is quick as he strokes his cock, his eyelashes fluttering as he throws his head back and whimpers.

Bill palms his own erection, legs not moving. He could just walk forward. He could Bind Dipper, here and now, while Dipper’s mind is fogged over with lust from Bill’s magic, while Dipper is so open to Bill’s touch.

Dipper moans, precome dripping onto his fingers, his stomach, his thighs. He’s a mess, skin red and flushed with need. Heat surrounds him, chokes him.

“Hahhh. . . Bill. . .” Dipper continues to stroke himself, but he’s biting on the fingers of his other hand, stifling a groan, squeezing his eyes shut. The soft noises that escape his lips sound so pretty to Bill’s ears, lyrics he’d love to replay.

 _Let me hear you_ , he wants to say, so he can hear Dipper’s sweet unabashed moans. _You sound so. . ._ Innocent. Pretty. Perfect. Weak. Human. Horrible.

“Beautiful.”

He feels empty despite the heat in his own belly, and before he can consider what this means, Dipper starts pulling reaches behind himself with the hand he’d been biting and begins shoving his fingers up his ass in a desperate attempt to mimic what Bill offers.

 _Oh_. The action makes Bill’s voice catch in his throat, and he has to look at Dipper’s face instead, devouring the sight of Dipper’s blissed expression, absorbing the magic and power Dipper is feeding him through this show.

His dark eyelashes keep fluttering, cheeks painted red and lips swollen from biting. His hair is sticky with sweat, bangs clumping to cover his eyes, but Bill wants to see them, wants to see the pretty look on Dipper’s face.

He sees instead the constellation birthmark, the _Ursa Major_ marking Dipper as the half-Angel that he is.

_(“I am so sorry, I just thought. . . Most people. . . Umm, I’m Dipper. Pines. Brother of Mabel. And you probably didn’t need to know that. Sorry.”_

_“Dipper. Pine Tree. The name’s Bill.”)_

Dipper’s breaths come in hard pants, soft moans escaping his lips as his fingers press deeper into his hole, as his body trembles to support himself.

Bill’s body trembles, eagerly anticipating Dipper’s breaking point, Dipper’s release.

Dipper gasps and writhes as his fingers reach deeper, but he’s not Bill, his fingers are not Bill. There’s an urgency in his actions, an ache because Bill isn’t with him. His breathing is ragged, so hot it’s coming out in puffs of smoke, and his body shakes visible each time he hits his prostate.

“Oh, God. . .” He bites his lips hard. Dipper’s movements become erratic, and he moves his other hand from his cock as he tries touching himself everywhere.

 _Not_ God _, but close._

 _Desperation_ surrounds Dipper’s heart from Bill’s flames, and all Dipper knows in that moment is how much he _needs_ Bill to fuck him, how much he _needs_ to surrender his body to give life to Demons. Dipper makes a pitiable noise—of course he does, he’s a pitiable Nephilim—and Bill is shaking, in desire and desperation and irritation, as Dipper fucks himself, hollow and nowhere near what he wants, just so Bill is not the one to do it.

(Why can’t Bill be the one to do it?)

It’s torture watching this, but he can’t look away. He can’t stop imagining how this would go if Dipper had given in.

Dipper twitches, and Bill hooks his electrifying stare onto Dipper’s face. Dipper’s eyes squeeze shut, lips red and swollen and nothing holding back his scream as he comes, arching his back off the brick wall of the club. His lust radiates from him, delicious and potent, magic making its way to Bill.

Bill’s cock strains in his pants. It’s hard for him to breathe, a heaviness in his chest and his movements as he tries to understand what he’s just done.

He _watched_ Dipper ignore every ounce of magic forcing him toward Bill, he knew Dipper came with thoughts of Bill on his mind, knew Dipper’s desires for Bill were true. But Dipper resisted, and Bill wants him more than ever.

He wants to understand Dipper’s mind, wants to take Dipper’s body. He has never wanted anything (anyone) so much since he became an Incubus.

“ _Bill_. . .” Dipper whispers, visibly spent. Magic seeps out of him, surrounding him like a veil, tempting Bill and all other Incubi toward him.

_(“There’s supposedly a gremloblin in the caves outside the town. We could find it. . . together?”_

_“No way! I’d—I’d like that.”)_

Bill comes.

**Author's Note:**

> many years late to the fandom and spitting out fanfics like nobody's business, please enjoy this meager contribution (it was supposed to be pwp and derailed into internal monologue with no porn or plot oops)
> 
> please let me know your thoughts, I know the fandom's a bit quieter than before but I'd love to meet new billdip friends <3
> 
> catch me on [tumblr](http://ssuppositiouss.tumblr.com)!


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